[Chapter 486: It's a Trap!!]
"That's strange! You always said you were too busy before, so how come you have time today?" Quentin asked suspiciously in the coffee shop.
"Because I have more free time today," Link smiled, glancing at the building across from them. He then asked, "When is your next movie after finishing the last one?"
At the beginning of the year, Quentin's directed film Kill Bill had a box office gross of $102 million in North America and had surpassed $100 million overseas. Quentin's fame in the film industry soared again.
To capitalize on Quentin, Miramax Films paid a high price to sign a three-film contract with Quentin. As of now, Quentin completed the sequel to From Dusk Till Dawn, and there were two films left.
"I'm planning to shoot at the end of the year. You make three movies a year, but even if I'm slower, I'll finish two," Quentin said.
"I agree that you should shoot more films each year. Finishing Miramax's projects early means you can continue with Kill Bill 2 sooner," Link stirred his coffee and smiled.
"There is no rush. Guess-MGM releases so many great movies every year. Almost all the top 20 box office hits this year are from your company. Delaying Kill Bill 2 by two years won't affect your company's performance at all," Quentin said.
At that moment, Link's Motorola phone beeped. He flipped it open, smiled and said, "The secret to our excellent box office is that we never turn down any good film."
Bang!
Suddenly, the glass railing shattered.
...
"Hit the deck!" Link instantly dropped to the ground, pulling the stunned Quentin down with him.
Bang! Bang!
More gunshots rained down from the building across. Bullets shattered the tempered glass terrace around them.
Although the glass was sturdy, multiple shots cracked and shattered it, scattering shards everywhere.
Without any cover, bullets flew recklessly into the terrace, turning tables, sofas, coffee cups, and flower vases into debris.
"Ah! What's happening? Are we filming a movie?" Quentin screamed in terror.
"Shut up!" Link grabbed a coffee table and used it as a shield while dragging Quentin backward. Their bodyguards, Bob and Hank, opened bulletproof cases and took positions in front to prevent bullets from piercing the table.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
More bullets poured in from a distance.
"Link, what's going on? Why is someone shooting at us?" Quentin, hiding behind the table, started to regain his composure.
"You saw it. Someone's trying to assassinate us."
"Assassinate us? No, no way! I'm just a low-level director. Why would anyone want to kill me? It must be you. Damn, I forgot you were targeted last time. I shouldn't have asked you out for coffee," Quentin lamented.
"Don't worry, we'll be fine."
"How could I not worry? Didn't you see those bullets? They were high-caliber rounds. There must be dozens of snipers aiming at us. We're doomed."
Quentin stumbled backward, nearly falling. Link grabbed his shoulder firmly.
"Stay steady. If you fall now, I bet that within a minute you'll have more holes in you than a fishing net."
Quentin shivered, clutching Link's arm tightly.
"Damn it! I'm just a director. Why am I involved in this? I am so unlucky."
"You said you liked violent, bloody movies and wanted an exciting gang-related life. Here's your chance to experience it firsthand. Aren't you excited?"
"No! Not at all. I hate gunfights and risky lives. I just want to stay home now."
Bang!
A bullet hit the floor as shards of glass flew past Quentin's head. He yelped and started running scared.
Link grabbed his arm again, holding the table up as a shield. With the help of the two bodyguards, they successfully retreated into the coffee shop.
Customers inside were also affected -- some crouched screaming, others ran chaotically, and some frantically called the police.
...
Link originally planned to leave Quentin in the cafe and get away by himself, but Quentin clung to his arm, refusing to leave without him.
"Are you sure? Those assassins outside are targeting me. If you come out with me now, you might get shot as a target."
"I'm sure," Quentin insisted. "You're a billionaire. Your life is worth more. If you're willing to take this risk, you must have a way to protect yourself."
"Alright, you walk in the middle. Don't fall behind or trip. If you don't keep up, you might die here."
Link put on a bulletproof vest and helmet, and then helped Quentin put on one too.
"I get it. But why must we leave? Why not stay here?"
Bang!
A shot interrupted Quentin's question. A gunman appeared at the back window but was instantly taken down by Hank's precise shot. Blood splattered on the glass as screams rose even louder.
Quentin trembled, holding his head. He wet his pants out of fear.
"Let's go!" Link pulled the panicked Quentin outside. Bob and Hank led the charge, taking out four armed gangsters approaching them like live targets.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunfire erupted everywhere.
Quentin's tall frame shrank as he shook uncontrollably.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
A group of armed thugs jumped out of a vehicle nearby. Bob and Hank fired first to suppress their fire.
Link had a gun but didn't fire. He kept hold of the trembling Quentin and rushed toward their armored Cadillac parked at the curb.
Bang! Bang!
Two high-caliber bullets came flying. One hit the car roof, sparking an orange shower, and another nearly hit Link's neck. He stepped forward; the bullet hit his shoulder on the vest, and the impact rocked him despite his strength.
"Link, you're shot!" Quentin screamed.
"Shut up!" Link pushed Quentin into the vehicle.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
After Bob and Hank jumped in, the doors slammed shut.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Bullets struck the armored van repeatedly, but the vehicle's protection was as good as a presidential limo.
...
"So close! Almost got him," the bald sniper Johnson muttered upstairs, regretful. John shared the same sentiment.
Boom!
Suddenly, a rocket launcher fired from the roadside, blowing the Cadillac off the ground.
"Nice!"
"Well done!" Johnson and John cheered.
But the car's armor held up; after being blasted into the air, it landed firmly and kept moving.
Just as the rocket man prepared for round two, a bullet from afar struck his head precisely, bursting his skull.
Bang!
Another bullet hit one of the rocket attacker's partners.
"Where did the sniper come from?" Johnson and John yelled.
Whirring sounds filled the sky as four Black Hawk helicopters rose and opened fire on the sniper positions upstairs.
"Run!"
John and Johnson fled downstairs with their gear. They were in a three-story resort hotel but found that exits were guarded by police, with several SWAT teams conducting anti-terror sweeps through the building, telling everyone to come out.
The two exchanged grim looks, realizing they'd walked into a trap. Otherwise, the police wouldn't have arrived so swiftly and silently.
"What do we do? Break out?"
"No. Police are everywhere. We can't get out."
"Then what? Just wait here to die?"
Footsteps echoed below; the two caught their breaths as their hearts pounded.
Suddenly, John noticed others coming out from their rooms. He hatched a plan.
...
A few minutes later, they discarded their gear, changed into civilian clothes, and blended into the crowd to get downstairs.
Unfortunately, the police gathered everyone in the lobby and brought out four police dogs to sniff every person. Anyone who touched a weapon or had gunpowder on them was quickly exposed.
John and Johnson's faces turned pale. They grabbed a hostage, using him as a shield to break out of the crowd, joined by four other assassins dressed as civilians.
But they were unarmed and had no chance against dozens of armed police and SWAT officers. Three were shot down on the spot.
John and the others had no choice but to drop and surrender.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Outside, sporadic gunfire and screams erupted. John closed his eyes in despair.
They were completely screwed -- fell right into the trap set by Link and the police.
No matter how much he pondered, John couldn't understand why Link, a billionaire, risked his life to lure them out. Was he not afraid of dying?
*****
https://www.patreon.com/Sayonara816.